


Blood In Your Veins

by niffleurs



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A little smutty, But that's okay because we still love him, Connor is kind of an asshole, F/M, a little angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-11 13:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffleurs/pseuds/niffleurs
Summary: The blood in your veins felt like fire every time you thought of him, and like ice each time a stranger’s hands slid down your body – a confusing and complicated mix that you had grown accustomed to, but tonight, you felt nothing but heat.





	1. Crashing Down

**Author's Note:**

> "All We Are" - Andy Kong  
> "Sink In" - Amy Shark

It was quiet. It had been quiet for months now. There was no music, no talking, and no laughter.

Your apartment was the complete opposite of what it had once been before. It was now lifeless, empty, and desolate. The lights were usually off, the TV never on. The neighbors would believe it to be abandoned had they not seen you come and go for work each day.  

Your apartment was in complete disarray. Your bed hadn’t been made in God knows how long, and your laundry sat in an overflowing hamper that you had no plans of dealing with anytime soon. Dishes were piled into the sink. Takeout boxes and empty liquor bottles filled your trashcan and littered any available counter space. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper homecooked meal, but you couldn’t find the motivation to cook, or clean for that matter. If you didn’t have bills to pay, then you certainly wouldn’t have the motivation to get out of bed and go into work each morning either.

You had no idea how you had let it get to this point. It certainly was never apart of your plan.

When you were a teenager and your parents separated, and you watched your mom endure the devastating storm that followed, you promised yourself that you would never let a boy make a home inside of your chest and then hurt you so deeply, almost beyond repair. No man was worth the pain and the heartache and the sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling and wishing for it to all just go away. But, of course, _he_ had been the one exception.

From the first time you met him, you knew he was going to be the one to break your heart. And what was worse was that you didn’t mind. You  _still_ didn’t mind even as you felt the hole in your chest where he had once lived – the piece of you that he had taken with him the day he left.

He was still worth it. He would always be worth it because you loved him more than anyone had ever loved another person. You were sure of it each time he smiled at you, or each time those heavenly brown eyes caught yours from across the room. Each time he whispered your name or moaned it into your ear while tangled between satin sheets. Whenever he would grab your hand and run his thumb along your knuckles. When he would kiss the tip of your nose and the butterflies within your stomach would come alive with a ferocity that shocked you each and every time.

There was no doubt in your mind that you loved him more than you could ever fathom. And you had been so sure that he had felt the same. But love was still new to him, and maybe you both had just misunderstood. Maybe you both had been wrong, and maybe he had just spent the last year and a half pretending that the feeling inside of his chest was truly relentless and unconditional love.

But each time you thought back to the way his fingers traced over your skin in the dark of night, and the way his lips would move against your own, so desperate and craving _more more more_ , you didn’t understand how you could have been so wrong or so blind.

Some part of him had to have loved you. Even if it was just a small corner of himself, he couldn’t have really meant it when he told you that it had all been a lie.

“ _I just don’t feel the same._ ”

“ _I’m not sure that I ever even loved you._ ”

“ _It’s better this way_.”

The last one had probably hurt you the most, because it sure as hell didn’t feel better “ _this way_ ”. Spending your days numb and completely void of any emotion was not better than feeling your chest swell with each text he would send you while at work. Eating your lunch alone was not better than eating it with his company. Laying all alone in your bed at night was not better than finding solace in his arms as they held you tightly until you fell asleep, and the nights that you _weren’t_ alone were even worse, because no matter how hard you tried to imagine that it was him on top of you with his lips attached to your neck and his hands pushing your hips further into the mattress, it never was. The brown eyes you would find yourself staring into were never quite the right shade.

 _Anything_ was better than the suffocating loneliness that you had felt for the last several months, but there was _nothing_ better than him, or more so, you and him together.

And no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t seem to forget. You were trying so hard to forget it all, and no amount of drunken stupors, one-night stands, and flat-out _reckless_ behavior cleared even a fragment of his memory from within your brain. His voice, his touch, his smell – they were forever ingrained into your mind and you just wanted it to _stop_.

That was the only moment in which you ever envied him. His memory could be altered, or even destroyed entirely, and you were forever stuck with the remembrance of what once was.

You wondered if he had erased you from his timeline completely, or if you didn’t matter enough for him to do so.

The blood in your veins felt like fire every time you thought of him, and like ice each time a stranger’s hands slid down your body – a confusing and complicated mix that you had grown accustomed to, but tonight, you felt nothing but _heat_.

You could still taste the Grey Goose on your lips (or was it on his?). Your vision was blurry, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the alcohol taking over your every sense or from the tears trailing down your cheeks. For months, you had searched and searched for that complete and utter warmth, even if it was only so you could immerse yourself further into your fantasy of being entangled with him once more, and you had finally found it.

His nails were digging into your hips, and his breath was hot against your ear. The only light in the room came from the soft, faint glow of a candle you had accidentally left burning from before you had gone out for the night, but that didn’t matter – your eyes were screwed tightly shut anyways.

Your hands found his chest, and oh _God_ , you didn’t have to imagine very hard. Sturdy and strong, yet somehow soft and comforting all in one. Familiar.

His teeth grazed the skin of your ear, down the length of your jaw, and then to your throat. Just like he used to do. You felt a shiver run down your spine and your back arched into his touch, and he _growled_. You could feel him smirk before he bit down on your pulse point, a wanton moan falling from your lips.

Desperate, needy, fast. It was everything that you needed, and you couldn’t remember the last time sex had felt so good.

Actually, you could. It was with him, of course it was, and it felt just like now. You felt whole for the first time in so long, and you couldn’t stop the slip of his name off your tongue like a desperate, futile prayer.

“Oh _Connor_.”

You hoped that the man looming over you had been too preoccupied to hear you moan someone else’s name, and for a moment, you thought you had gotten away with it. He shuddered and continued his movements as if you had simply not spoken, but when he moaned your name back to you, his mouth right by your ear, your eyes snapped open.

That voice. You knew that voice. You could go years without hearing it and you would always remember that voice. Apparently, you _hadn’t_ moaned the wrong name, because you were one hundred percent certain that it was Connor inside of you, pounding into you like he would never see tomorrow yet cradling you in his arms as if you were nothing but a fragile doll made of porcelain.

You had never sobered up so quickly.

But oh _God_ , you didn’t want him to stop.

You gripped his hair tighter between your fingers, another moan of your name leaving his lips. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck, his forehead coming to rest against your own, and it was then that you knew you weren’t imagining things, because those brown eyes you had craved so deeply were _right there_ , staring back at you.

How had you just realized?

The club had been dark, and the music had been loud. You were dancing with someone, facing them, when someone came up behind you and pulled you flush against their body. Their lips had immediately attacked your neck and their hands found their place on your hips, pulling you impossibly close as you rocked to the beat of the music.

You had never seen his face, never heard his voice. You had only followed when he pulled you away from the dancefloor and didn’t question when he led you back to _your_ apartment. The alcohol, and the lack of self-preservation that you had only recently lost, were surely the culprits.

Your name flowed from his mouth for a third time, in the form of a breathless whisper. Your hold on him tightened, and you blinked furiously just to make sure that this wasn’t all just a sick, twisted, vodka-induced dream your brain decided to plant. But he was still there, and then his thumb was against your lower lip, and he was kissing away the tears that were now flowing down your cheeks at a greater volume. It wasn’t until you let out a broken, strangled sob that he pulled away from you, and you instantly missed his warmth, his touch.

You could only lay there and stare at the ceiling as your breath completely escaped your lungs just seemed to stop working, and as hard as you tried, you just couldn’t pull in enough air. You gasped and you gasped until they became silent. Your mind was returning to a foggy, clouded state as Connor pulled you up into a sitting position and then crushed you against his chest. His hands smoothed over your hair and his enticing moans were replaced by gentle reminders to “breathe, you need to breathe darling”.

Breathing had never been so hard.

His arms held you tightly, and you never wanted him to let you go. Not again, not ever.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby _please_. Please, breathe.”

Your broken plea wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, but your embarrassing begging was the last thing you were worried about.

Connor removed his hands from your body, and you scrambled to stay close, only stopping when both of his palms gently met your cheeks, holding your head still so that you were forced to look at him.

“Breathe.”

Brown eyes, so full of concern and worry and _love_.

You had always looked at Connor as if he hung the moon in the sky himself each and every night, and now, he was looking at you as if you were tearing it all down, piece by piece until there was nothing but crumbled rock surrounding. It was love, because he wouldn’t have looked so completely wrecked, so completely devastated in that moment if it had been anything else.

“Goddammit, _breathe_ ,” he instructed, panic starting to settle into his tone.

You couldn’t.

There was only black.

 


	2. Like A Wave

Your name. Someone was calling your name, but it was only a faint whisper through the clouds looming over your every thought. However, it was a familiar whisper; a voice you instantly recognized. One that threatened to tear the dark shroud from your mind and rip you back into harsh, cold reality. You didn’t want that. You wanted to stay under, within the haze, where it was warm and dark and comfortable. Darkness had welcomed you with a warm embrace, and you wanted to remain in the void where you felt undisturbed and at complete and utter peace for the first time in so long.

But the voice was growing louder, and more persistent. Annoying, but oh so familiar. Warmer than the darkness, but you still fought against opening your eyes.

Your ears were ringing, head pounding. Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your limbs felt like lead. Everything felt so intense, like every sensation was magnified ten times over. It was all so much, _too_ much. No, the darkness was definitely the better option here.

You willed yourself to fall back into a soothing state of unconsciousness - tried so hard to block out that _pestering_ voice, and you were almost there, so close to relief, when you felt a cold hand grip your shoulder and _shake_ you until you had no choice but to wake up.

He was staring down at you, those brown eyes troubled, yet benevolent at the same time. You could feel one of his hands resting against your lower back, cradling your body to his, while the other had found a place against the side of your neck.

“Shit,” he cursed, followed by a gentle murmur of your name.

Connor’s hair was disheveled, and as the recollection of earlier events started to flood back into your mind, you realized that it looked that way because your hands had been tangled between the strands. His lips were pink, and still slightly swollen. You hadn’t been out for long, apparently, though it felt like hours. The sheets covered his lower half as he leaned over you, but his exposed torso was covered with angry blue lines where your nails had raked down his skin. You remembered feeling surprised the first time you had ever left marks on his body, not because of the color but because the ability to leave a physical mark on an android had never crossed your mind, but Cyberlife had really had their eye set on authenticity when playing God.

In short, he looked perfect, as always.

A million questions hung on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t speak; could only stare at the man above you with his perfect goddamn hair and his perfect goddamn lips. Disbelief, relief. Anger. Another emotion that you couldn’t quite place.

You were baffled. You had wanted Connor back in your arms for so long, and he was finally there, right in front of your own eyes. The one thing you had spent night after night begging and pleading for, to whatever higher power might have been listening at the time, was finally returned to you. Your craving should have felt satisfied, your thirst quenched, and you should have felt whole again. But _this_ felt _wrong_.

“This isn’t okay,” you mumbled with a quick shake of your head.

Connor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, his frown deepening as he searched your eyes for some sort of meaning to your words.

You repeated yourself a second time as you struggled to sit up, his hands beckoning for you to just lay back down, but you couldn’t. You needed to put some sort of distance between you and him, because you couldn’t think straight with his hands on your body or his breath in your ear.

You broke away from his grasp and stood on two shakey feet, quickly searching to find your panties and the closest article of clothing, hastily throwing the crumpled garment on over your naked frame. Of course, it belonged to him - a simple white t-shirt that smelt exactly and undeniably like him. It would have to do, because you needed to get out of that room and away from him and you just needed a moment to think.

Throwing your bedroom door open, you stumbled into the hallway, the lights automatically flicking on to a dim glow as they sensed your movement. You could hear Connor climb out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floors with a soft thud.

Air. You needed air.

You ignored his call of your name and jogged over to the french doors that led out onto your balcony, swiftly pulling it open and walking the short ten feet to the edge. You gripped the railing tightly between white knuckles, looking down towards the city below and pulling a deep, laboring breath into your lungs. The cold air felt like needles in your windpipe, but it was an honest relief.

Everything about the entire situation felt so wrong.

You shouldn’t have consumed so much alcohol, because the sober version of yourself would have at least looked at the “stranger’s” face once before you let him take you to bed. You shouldn't have been so reckless, and you should have questioned when he led you back to your apartment without having to ask you for directions. You shouldn’t have been so careless.

The person who entered your bed at the start of the night was meant to be nothing more than a one-night stand, and even though it had been Connor writhing between your sheets, the encounter still meant nothing more to you than a quick fuck, because you _didn’t know_ , and that seemed to be what caused you the most grief. Even though you had just spent a night of pleasure with the man you loved more than the moon loved the stars, it meant absolutely _nothing_ , because you were supposed to be fucking a stranger, not Connor.

It felt so wrong, because this wasn’t how your reunion with Connor was supposed to go. The footsteps approaching were lost on you as you sank further and further into your thoughts.

He said your name again, a silent plea hiding in his tone, though for what, you didn’t know. Your shoulders tensed, and your grip on the railing grew impossibly tighter. Your breath caught in your throat, but this time, you were able to push past the tightness in your throat. One deep breath, followed by another, and another, until you felt calm enough to turn around and face him.

Your movements were slow, hesitant. Connor stood an arms-length away, just close enough to touch had you wanted to. You weren’t ready to look him directly in the eye, fearful of what you might find lurking behind his brown irises. You instead focused your gaze on the crease between his still furrowed eyebrows, and you had to fight the urge to trace it with the tip of your finger.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a tone that was somewhere between concern and exasperation, his arms open and slightly raised in a gesture that conveyed his confusion.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing your emotions to remain at bay long enough for you to sneak away again.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

His answer took you by surprise, and even though you tried your best to hide it, you knew you did a lousy job of doing so. Instead of continuing to try, you decided to just give up.

You scoffed gently, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting your eyes momentarily fall shut. “What does that even mean?”

The LED on his right temple was sitting at a constant yellow, and you finally gave into meeting his eyes, and the second his brown ones met your own, it began to swirl at a slow and steady rate and the butterflies in your stomach copied the motion.

Connor shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, an almost sheepish expression overtaking his features. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck - an undeniably human trait he had picked up in his time since becoming deviant. .

“Gavin told me that he’s seen you at that club a few different times.”

You raised an eyebrow in question, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for further explanation. “And?”

“And he might have made a few...less than appropriate comments about you.”

“Connor, you’re not making any sense.”

You were growing more and more frustrated with the android in front of you, purely because he was confusing you more than anything else. He looked exasperated himself, with a scowl on his face and his fingers clenched into a tight fist. Having known him so well, you thought part of his sour mood came from the memory of Gavin’s words, though you also contributed part of it to his apparent inability to effectively convey his point.

A soft blue tinged his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He was looking off to the left, at nothing in particular you noted, as his chest heaved with each inhale and exhale. You couldn’t help but start to worry, because he really seemed to be struggling with whatever he was trying to tell you, but then, it slowly started to make sense.

“Are you _jealous_?”

Connor turned his eyes back to yours, an almost guilty expression hiding within his chocolate irises that you would have missed if you weren’t so well versed with his range of emotions and the mannerisms that went with each.

“You’re here because you’re jealous of a man that I haven’t spoken to since the last time I saw him at the precinct with _you_. Jesus, Connor, what the-”

“That’s not it.”

You raised your eyebrows, daring him to question your theory. The blue in his cheeks darkened in response.

“At least, it’s not the entire reason that I’m here.”

“Oh, of course. Well go on, please enlighten me, then.”

Connor rolled his eyes at your sarcastic behavior, which you would be the first to admit you deserved, but in that moment, you didn’t care. Couldn’t care less.

The android stepped closer, until you were practically chest to chest with his body. You hated the stutter you felt within your chest at his close proximity, but pushed the feeling down. You needed to stand your ground, and you wouldn’t let the flutter of your heart, distract you.

“I had a case, a few months ago,” he started, never once looking away or averting his gaze - a sign of sincerity and truth that you appreciated to no end. “That one I was called to at three in the morning?”

You nodded, familiar with the one he was referring to. It had been a hostage situation, and he had been called to negotiate. The rest of the details you had learned from news articles, because Connor hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and Hank would always say that it “wasn’t his place”.

Michael Chase had just been fired from the Detroit City Police Department for extreme misconduct. No other department in the area would hire him because he couldn’t pass a mental health exam, and so, in the midst of a psychotic break, he decided to kidnap his ex-partner, along with her husband and two kids, and tie them up in an abandoned warehouse on the north side of town. The youngest child, a four year-old girl, had been able to escape and call for help.

The standoff lasted ten hours, until Chase somehow managed to escape from the building undetected. Still, no one could figure out how he had managed to do so, and he was still on the run. It seemed as if he had just evaporated into thin air with no trace left behind.

When Connor returned home after, he was on edge and completely frazzled. It was three days later when he decided to end things between the both of you.

You were ripped from your thoughts when Connor started to speak again.

“Chase knew about you and he threatened me. Or more so, he threatened _you_ and I just...your safety has always been the most important thing to me, you know, that don’t you?”

You could only nod again, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips.

“The things he said he would do...I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel physically ill, but I know that I would have been sick if I were human.”

Your chest tightened as you listened to him recount each threat Chase had made, and you watched helplessly as the terror unfolded behind his eyes as if the _monster_ were standing before him once again; as if he was hearing each twisted and demented promise for the first time all over again.

“I made a stupid, stupid mistake,” he said, followed by a broken sob of your name that completely wrecked you. “I-I thought that by staying away from, you would be safe.”

Connor reached forward and gently took your hand in his. His skin was warm to the touch, almost clammy (if that was even at all possible, you honestly didn’t know), and you firmly intertwined your fingers with his. He looked as if he was about to cry.

“These last few months have been _hell_ , and I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Another whimper of your name followed. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You pulled your hand away from his, and the look that crossed Connor’s face was enough to break your heart all over again, but it quickly morphed into one of surprise as you threw your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest.

He stood frozen for a moment, but quickly relaxed, settling his arms around your waist and holding you tightly against his body, almost as if he were afraid to let you go again. His body shook gently in your embrace, and you were surprised to feel a drop of wetness land on the top of your head. You had never seen him cry before, didn’t even know that androids _could_ cry.

You quietly soothed him, running your hand over his back over and over again. You couldn’t hold him at fault. He did what he thought was right, for your own safety, even if it didn’t entirely make sense. Emotions were still new to him, and you would give him the credit for trying.

You didn’t know where you stood with Connor at that moment, but there was one thing you were absolutely positive of: standing within his arms felt like home. The blood in your veins warmed with every apology that flowed from his lips, and you knew him well enough to know that each was nothing short of sincere. He wouldn’t have apologized in the first place if he didn’t absolutely mean it.

You knew he meant it, just as you knew the sky to be blue and the grass to be green.

Gentle, chaste pecks were placed along every available inch of skin that he could reach without having to pull away, and you gently played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smiled.

You kissed him.

The ice melted.

You were warm again.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi HI!<3 i know this was about a week overdue, but...a lot has been going on, lol. please leave me a comment letting me know what you think! and i'm planning for chapter three to be from connor's pov so...let me know what you think about that :)

**Author's Note:**

> SO there's that. Let me know if you're interested in a part two by leaving me a kudos! :)


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